The Fox Woman of Ionia
by GrimGrave
Summary: "Have you ever heard the myths of the Kumiho? Legends say that foxes that live for a 1000 years can freely shapeshift into a human." Lost and mentally scarred from war, the self-imposed Exile wanders aimlessly in search for something she doesn't even know the identity of. She goes where the wind guides her, eventually leading her back to Ionia... AU, rated M for Mature themes.
1. Prologue - In The Snow

Disclaimer: League of Legends belongs to Riot Games. GrimGrave does not own any of the characters or make money out of writing fiction.

_Beta-read by, as always, the wonderful Supreme Distraction! Thanks hun! :3_

_**The Fox Woman of Ionia**_

_**Prologue**_

_In The Snow_

After a couple of days at sea, there was finally a landmass on the horizon.

"We're nearing the Ionian harbour," a burly middle-aged man stated. He was the captain and his ship - a Barquentine that had seen better days - was currently making its way through icy waters.

His passenger nodded at him but spoke no words, merely peering at her destination: Ionia, a spiritual nation that valued harmony and peace above everything else.

So why was she going there again? Hell if she knew. For closure? Possibly. She was wandering, after all; she went where the wind guided her. She had no attachments to any one place – not anymore.

Besides, anywhere was better than Noxus.

* * *

><p>Perhaps coming to Ionia hadn't been the wisest of decisions, at least not now: winter had long since arrived, carrying snow and harsh winds that cut to the bone and made it near impossible to remain outside.<p>

Near the woods, far from any Ionian settlements, a lone humanoid figure – a wanderer or a warrior, one might say – was marching on, with only a thick, brown hooded cloak to provide warmth and equipped with (what used to be) a greatsword strapped onto her back.

The frigid weather wasn't merciful and, while it didn't compare to the mighty winds of the Freljord – a onetime experience in her long, aimless journey – it would certainly wear you down if you were not properly dressed.

Tattered remains of armour and cloth did not function well as winter attire.

She certainly wasn't used to climates such as this. No, Noxus was entirely different, in fact, it was the complete opposite: you constantly fought or trained, and a cool breeze was a rare thing to occur in that harsh environment where compassion is weakness.

The strong eat the weak. Survival of the fittest. The perfect synopsis for her former homeland, where morals and benevolence was scoffed at – you fight, and you live.

Show mercy and you'll die.

In Noxus, only the hot winds of war blew.

However, the gale winds had ceased for the time being, making this ample opportunity to hunt for food.

Not having any money only gave the wanderer this much choice.

"There should be enough time," she said to herself, her voice soft but firm. "I'm getting hungry…"

As if on cue, there was a low grumbling sound from her stomach and she swore, increasing her pace through thick snow as she entered the woods: a serene gathering of trees covered with the winter's blanket.

There had to be game somewhere. Brown orbs were trained on the ground, watching vigilantly for something the snow would help her find – tracks.

She made her way deeper into the woods despite the chilling numbness that had begun to take hold of her feet due to lack of proper footwear. Nothing she couldn't handle though – she was a warrior at heart, after all.

Still, combined with a growing hunger, it was definitely not a good idea to idle too long out here.

* * *

><p>How long had it been now? She had lost sense of time. All she knew was that no game had been found as of yet, and the winds were beginning to kick up.<p>

This was starting to become vexing.

As she turned in a different direction, there was something that broke the silence: a high-pitched yowl.

Whipping her head in the direction of the sound, toned hand grabbing the hilt of the giant broken blade, she dashed forward. The yowling continued, growing louder as the warrior got closer. Once she knew it was just a stone-throw away she halted, crouching for a subtle approach through the vegetation. A loud screech came, and almost had the sword-wielder covering her ears.

_´What's this now?´_ she thought, moving closer to the source of the sound. Upon reaching the small hillside clearing, the warrior stopped mid-step, amazed by the sight before her: in a crude bear-trap with jagged iron teeth, a small, slender creature with pure, snow white fur thrashed about – a fox.

With its tail stuck in the trap, the fox could only yelp painfully as it desperately attempted to free itself to no avail.

Lost in the sight of such an awe-inspiring creature – that sleek white coat alone was captivating to behold and the whirling snow glimmered on its fur, making it more akin to a radiant beam of moonlight – she watched it, admiring it even as she did. Even its throes looked like a majestic dance.

Her stomach grumbled, louder this time due to prolonged lack of substance, which not only snapped the warrior back to her senses, but alarmed the fox of her presence, prompting it to growl menacingly.

The vulpine bristled as soon as the Exile took a step closer, but made no attempt to attack – its trapped tail prevented it from doing anything.

Pitiful.

She smiled apologetically at the animal. "Cruel, isn't it?" she said. "You can't even run away, much less defend yourself. So here you are, trapped, and I'm hungry."

Truly pitiful. It was a shame to end the life of such an alluring animal – which she didn't have a reason to kill otherwise – but hunger had her seeing only one thing: meat.

Was it worth it, though? What joy was there in killing something that was defenceless? Much like—

Brown eyes widened.

Memories of her past came back to her: _screams, blood, and the smell of copper and smoke._

The broken greatsword was unsheathed from the strap on her back, held in her hand as if it weighed nothing, and she swung downwards.

The fox whimpered softly, quivering as it awaited the end… that didn't come.

It opened its eyes, looking to the human and her weapon, concern and confusion visible in its gaze.

The broken blade was just an inch or two away from striking its body and the warrior sighed. "…No. You're far too beautiful to be killed. How could I slay such a magnificent creature when it can't even defend itself?"

She stared at the fox, a pitiful look in her eyes and it stared back, dark brown meeting ochre, and for a moment the warrior was almost certain that the vulpine understood her. There was something in its eyes that she couldn't put her finger on…

She almost reached out to pat it, but her instincts suggested otherwise.

"Aren't you a lucky one…?" Her expression softened. "I suppose I'll have to find food elsewhere."

With a mighty swing she broke the trap and, with its grasp gone, the fox sprinted a good distance up the hill before halting and looking back at the warrior.

The warrior allowed a vague smile. "Go on. Live another day," she called out. "And don't get caught in another trap!"

Ochre eyes lingered on the human for a moment longer and, after some hesitation, the fox was quickly out of sight.

She sheathed the blade behind her back and brushed an ashen-blonde lock of hair behind her ear. Her stomach growled with hunger and she swore under her breath. "Shit…"

Riven continued into the forest, determined to find food before the winds really picked up. The sword-wielder was on the verge of giving up when she happened upon tracks – multiple ones – from some kind of hoofed animal. Whatever it was, it would be her meal and from the looks of it, the creature had passed through recently.

"Looks like I have some luck, too."

The warrior dashed forward, a hand on the hilt of her blade, following the tracks to the west; unaware of the ochre orbs watching her from afar.

* * *

><p><em>Feedback is most welcome! :D<em>


	2. Chapter 1 - The Festival of Fire

Disclaimer: League of Legends belongs to Riot Games. GrimGrave does not own any of the characters or make money out of writing fiction.

_Beta-read by my wonderful Beta-Buddy, __**Supreme Distraction! **__:3_

_**The Fox Woman of Ionia**_

_**Chapter 1**_

_The Festival of Fire_

**4 months later**

_/Towering fires. A choir of screams. A rain of ashes and embers upon grounds covered with blood and biochemical fluids._

_Death-death all around her, wherever she looked, surrounded by corpses, victims of a unspeakably horrific end and pure gruesome terror plastered on their sickening white faces. _

_Dark brown eyes widened._

_Ionians and Noxians alike –foes and friends – had met death at the hand of the Zaunite biochemical weapons._

_Her stomach turned, and her head spun as vision blurred – she felt nauseous, her heart pounding against ribs and the pumping of blood echoing in her ears._

_Panic – sheer unrestraint terror – overwhelmed the field-commander and she ran across bodies and rubble to… where? _

_Where was she going?_

_Anywhere—anywhere but here!/_

Riven bolted upright from her bed with a loud gasp, heart racing beneath her breast. She was covered in cold sweat and pale tresses were messy from tossing and turning in her sleep.

_´That nightmare again…´_

How many years had it been now?

Rage surged within swordswoman until knuckles turned white and teeth were clenched and bared. "Singed…"

Control. She took a deep breath, steadying her breathing. Focus. Another deep breath – in through the nose, out through the mouth. Repeat.

_Focus is essential _– words from her old drill instructor years ago.

Somewhat calm, Riven got out of bed – a cheap mattress filled with hay and a thin pillow – and got dressed. The room had seen better days, but it was the only thing she could afford with what little gold she could earn from mercenary work.

She was lucky that she had managed to find someone who was even _willing_ to offer her – a Noxian – a room, even if it was temporary.

Having wandered the island nation for months, Riven was thankful for at the very least have a roof over her head most nights, not being fond of sleeping outdoors, especially on chilly nights. A stale bed beat grass and log most of the times, and having somewhere to call "camp" made things easier when she was out, searching.

What was she even searching for to begin with? There was closure… but she didn't have the faintest idea of how to obtain it. Ionia was a spiritual nation, with peace and tranquillity as its cornerstones—the exact opposite of Noxus. Perhaps that influence could help her with inner demons…

If she was honest with herself, Riven knew it was a foolish hope. Yet here she was, in Ionia, and she had been for months, dedicated to her wanderlust across the nation. It wasn't like she was wasting time, for all the Exile did was journeying; visiting one place after another and gaining new experiences.

With a heavy sigh, the pale-haired woman grabbed her broken blade and sheathed it across her back, and headed out.

* * *

><p>"There you are, <em>Noxian<em>," a burly, muscular man said, his arms firmly crossed over a toned chest. "There's work to do, so get crackin´ and load the cargo into the warehouse."

Riven merely nodded at the man – her employer – doing what she was told and walked over to the large boxes, lifting one up. Not a glorious job, but it was at least one way to earn a few gold coins so she wouldn't have to hunt for food or sleep outside even though the weather would allow her to.

Besides, though the deed was small and insignificant, in Riven's eyes it was the least she could do for the Ionians.

Marching back and forth between the docks and the warehouse, she heard the townspeople murmur, some more audible than others, and shooting her dirty looks. The Exile didn't mind though; their words were nothing compared to the guilt that lay heavy in her heart.

"_Hey, you excited for tonight?"_ a voice asked.

The pale-haired mercenary's ears pricked up as she continued the manual labour.

"_Yeah, the Festival of Fire is going to be perfect!"_ another person said.

Right. The Festival of Fire. Riven remembered hearing about it these last couple of weeks – it was an Ionian event celebrating the coming of the spring equinox, which in fact was today. Come to think of it, Placidium – the capital of Ionia – had been decorated and prepared for the festival these last few days, and festivities had already begun since this morning.

Perfect. As if the capital city wasn't already filled with large gatherings of people. Riven preferred solitude or, at best, a minimum of people around her.

Shrugging the thought off, the mercenary continued her work, hefting a larger box onto her right shoulder. She didn't pay it any mind, being used to the scrutinizing glares, but at the back of her mind she registered a presence that wasn't glaring daggers…

**X.x.X.x.X**

Hours later, after having unloaded various cargo boxes at the harbour, Riven noticed the sun was beginning to drift down towards the horizon, the sky starting to turn slightly crimson.

With a small brown bag containing her payment in her pocket, the Exile wandered the streets aimlessly, ignoring people's stares. The preparations for the festival were pretty much complete but the real festivities themselves wouldn't begin until later and continue well into tomorrow.

Normally, Riven wouldn't have had anything to do with the festival and avoided gatherings, but this was a chance for the closure she sought. According to Ionians, the Festival of Fire was a celebration for the cleansing and rebirth of one's spirit—befitting of a people that sought spiritual enlightenment above everything else.

Surely she could put up with being surrounded by people for one day?

…

Well, she was here now so she might as well give it a chance, though it was against her better judgement. Anything to distract her from the inner demons, she rationalized.

The Exile halted and spun quickly around. That presence again… there was no mistake this time, someone was definitely watching her.

The Ionians stared quizzically at her as they walked by, but none matched that presence – it wasn't a cold stare like she was used to but instead… warm? No malice, no ill intent.

Riven's warrior's intuition told her she was being followed. And whoever it was, he or she was hiding from sight.

Frowning, the pale-haired woman turned on her heel and continued down the street at a quickened pace. She didn't like the feeling of being observed like this, but the last thing she wanted to do was to cause any trouble.

Whoever it was would probably (read: hopefully) lose interest or lose sight of her.

**X.x.X.x.X**

Come evening, the Festival of Fire had reached its peak: Ionians were cheering and laughing, new stalls and vendors making business, and all the food and drink one could have were laid out before them.

People from all over Ionia had travelled to the capital to participate in the festival, with the main hub being the Serene Gardens, where they could write and hang scrolls containing their woes and worries on the flowered branches of the Great Tree, in hope of being cleansed of them.

_´Superstitions…´_

That's what the pale-haired warrior thought, and yet here she was. The Great Tree was a sight to behold, she had to admit: its flowers glowed in the early dark, the leaves a vibrant green that was pleasing to the eye.

Her hand clenched around the tattered scroll. It felt… weird, for the lack of a better word, to have written down her woes on a piece of paper like this. Still, she tied it to a branch and promptly left, ignoring peoples' stares.

Superstition or not, if there was even a fragment of a chance…

Riven returned to a small building she had passed on her way to the gardens – a local pub called _Spiritual Guidance_ – and once inside, took a seat at the front of the bar, hefting her greatsword and letting it lean against the counter. She'd be damned if she missed out on the delicious food and drink that was being served all over Placidium.

And if she was completely honest, this rice-wine wasn't bad.

"_I hear Miss Akali is going to play the role of Reina again!"_

"_I know! Oh, she's so beautiful…"_

More gossip picked up amidst the mix of conversations. Apparently, theatrical performances were a tradition come the Festival of Fire. And this "Akali" was popular enough to be part of this play.

The Exile took another sip of the rice-wine, contemplating. Ionians really amazed her, in a way: they were selfless, easy-going, and yet they didn't hesitate to get their hands dirty. In comparison, they had achieved so much more than the other city-states.

Freljord was still in a power-struggle between two tribes and Demacia, while pure and noble, suffered from hypocrisy and a zealous sense of "justice." Piltover wasn't bad, but the abundance of advanced technology left little to no nature—as if nothing could work unless powered, or aided, by machinery. And Zaun…

It was no better, nor different, from Noxus. And with their ties to said city-state, the warrior would see red.

No, Ionians were one of a kind. That's why she was here, wasn't it?

"What do we have here then?" a tall man said, interrupting the pale-haired woman's train of thought as he approached Riven. Dark-brown eyes glanced over at him briefly, then drifting back to her drink. "That blade at your side… you're a Noxian."

She could practically _feel_ the numerous pairs of eyes that immediately shifted over to her.

Perfect.

"What's a Noxian doing here?" someone said from across the pub.

"Get her out of here…" another patron said.

The man glared daggers at Riven, but she remained unfazed. "How dare you setting foot in Placidium, let alone Ionia, after what your kind did?"

She sighed. "If your harsh remarks could bring your people back, I'd let you make them a thousand times over. But it won't, so stop wasting my time and your energy."

The man bristled. "Why you-!"

"_Is there a problem here?"_

The man – and the rest of the patrons – went silent, prompting the exiled warrior to turn around to see a woman: her hair was long and silver, and she was clad in a strange red and white garb, with a floating object following suit behind her, as if part of her attire.

The woman looked young, but she was far different from the other Ionians. Those eyes were eyes of a warrior – someone who had seen a fair share death.

Those same orbs met Riven's for a moment before she crossed her arms. "I repeat: is there a problem here?"

The Ionian man seemed to be at a loss for words, but eventually he managed to point at Riven. "F-forgive me, Miss Irelia. But this Noxian here-"

"Noxian?" the woman, named Irelia, looked over at the Exile, her face blank. She walked over to her, arms still folded. "I find it a bit surprising to see a Noxian in the middle of the capital, enjoying herself. What's your name?"

The swordswoman didn't hesitate. "Riven."

Irelia nodded. "What is your business here, Riven?"

"Closure," she replied. "Tranquillity. Enlightenment. Atonement."

"It's strange to hear those words from a warrior of Noxus."

"My allegiance lies with contracts," the warrior replied. "As a mercenary and an exile, I am not bound to Noxus. My stay here is for peaceful reasons."

The silver-haired woman paused and studied the Exile with a slightly perplexed look. Her eyes then happened to drift down to the remains of the greatsword. "Your blade appears be broken."

"A sword mirrors its owner," came the flat reply and, for a second, Riven swore she saw a flash of empathy in Irelia's eyes.

"The weight you carry hangs in the very air around you," the silver-haired woman remarked. "I hope you'll find what you seek." With that, she spun around, facing the patrons. "Nothing to see here, people! Eat, drink, and be merry!"

With a last pitying look, Irelia left the building and the patrons continued celebrating, thus leaving Riven to enjoy her drink.

**X.x.X.x.X**

Later, the pale-haired swordswoman had ordered some food to go with her drink; a dish made especially for the occasion: a beef-broth soup with unsweetened, sliced ovals of rice-cakes and vegetables. Though slightly odd-looking, it tasted delicious.

As a way of entertaining herself, Riven listened in on the other patrons' conversations while she enjoyed her meal. Some more talk about "a certain Noxian," nothing new, others kept discussing the beauty of this "Akali" woman and how the play she'd perform in would be great. And apparently this Irelia-character was the captain of the Ionian Guard.

_´Looks like I managed to dodge a bullet there…´_

"_I really don't like nights such as this…"_

Her ears pricked up as the couple of men behind her talked.

"_Huh? Why's that?" _another man inquired, his speech slightly slurred.

"_It's nights like these that they say people are spirited away. Don't tell me you haven't heard! Over the years, people are said to have vanished from the countryside."_

_*hic* "It's just superstition, man."_

"_It's true! Have you ever heard the myths of the __**kumiho**__? Legends say that foxes that live for 1000 years can freely shapeshift into a human!"_

"…_Uhu. So?"_

"_They are said to take the shape of beautiful, bewitching women in order to lure men away and eat their hearts and livers! And with the Festival of Fire going on, this is a perfect chance to abduct people without notice!"_

"…_You're way too superstitious. They're just myths you know."_

Indeed. It really was false belief.

The two men continued to argue about the myths and legends, but Riven paid no attention to it. She was content with eating her food, seeing that going to bed wasn't an option – not with all this noise going on.

And judging by the roars and cheers outside, the festival was really kicking it up now. Music was playing, people laughed, and everyone was having a good time.

And yet the only thing Riven found enjoyable was the food and drinks.

Speaking of beverages, a white bottle was set down in front of her as the bartender immediately put down another glass, filled with said drink.

Her expression was blank. "Excuse me, I didn't order this."

"I know," the bartender replied with a small frown. "It's from the lady over there." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, towards a rather… _stunning_ woman leaning against one of the wooden columns.

She appeared to be the same height as Riven, if not slightly shorter, with an hourglass-form that definitely caught one's attention and ample cleavage that was at risk of spilling out of their confinement. She wore a modern, trendy kimono that was scarlet at the top and white at the bottom, with a fengshui charm that reached down to the floor, attached at the hem of the top part. Skin that wasn't covered by cloth was milky pale, and her tresses were black, twisted into a long braid that reached her hips.

Azure, almond-shaped eyes were watching the swordswoman with such… _warmth._ It was unsettling in a way.

The raven-haired woman's lips quirked into a smirk as soon as eye-contact was made and she moved, walking over to sit next to Riven, resting her chin in her palm. "Hi there. You looked like you could use something stronger."

Riven cocked an eyebrow as she shot a quizzical look at the woman. "What do you want?"

The stranger appeared taken aback at first, but was laughing softly into the back of her hand shortly after. "My apologies. I guess I should've introduced myself first!" She held out her hand with a smile. "My name is Ahri."

"…Riven," the pale-haired warrior replied, shaking Ahri's hand after some hesitation. "And my question remains the same."

_´Strange woman…´_

"I merely wish to spend the evening with you, Riven. You looked… lonely," the busty woman remarked, her smile faltering slightly. "So, as a gesture of good will, this drink is on me; one of the finest beverages in Ionia, _Soju_ spirit."

"Soju?" the Noxian asked, holding the glass up to her nose – it smelled sweet. Ahri was already pouring herself some Soju, humming happily as she did so, and held out her cup. The Exile noticed that this woman also had blue nails, for whatever reason.

"Cheers!"

_´I suppose I can humour her. We'll part ways before long,´ _she thought, lifting her glass to meet the brunette's, and drinking it all in one go.

While sweet and clear, the sheer alcohol volume took Riven by surprise, causing her to stifle a cough. "This… is strong."

"But oh, so good~" the raven-haired woman exclaimed with a soft hum. "It's only one of the best though. I have better ones back home, but let's save that for another time, yeah?"

"…Sure." She hadn't meant for it to come out as condescending, but the Noxian wasn't sure she'd ever meet this woman again. Strangely (and perhaps fortunately) the woman showed no sign of having picked up on the tone.

"So, Riven." What was it the way Ahri said her name that was so… enticing? It rolled off her tongue so nicely… "What's your business here, aside from the festival?" She poured herself and the Exile another drink.

"I didn't come here for the festival."

A short laugh. "You chose the worst city to escape the festivities then. The smaller villages don't even celebrate nearly as long."

There was a pause as the former field-commander took a swig of her Soju. "Perhaps."

"Not much of a talker, are you?" The raven-haired woman cocked her head to the side. "I feel that this is rather one-sided."

The swordswoman shot her a blank expression. "Not really. I'm not a people person."

"And yet I'm slowly learning more and more about you~" Ahri replied with a giggle. "So, I take it you're renting a room somewhere around here, right?"

Riven nodded.

"I could offer you free lodging, you know." A sly smile quirked the Ionian's lips before she raised her glass, gulping down its contents in one go. "It would save you the little gold you're earning."

A thin eyebrow arched. "How would you know about my payment, let alone my job?"

"Intuition," she was quick to reply. "I don't think a Noxian would get paid good money here, regardless of the job."

This situation was getting more and more odd. "You know about me being a Noxian… Yet you offer me free lodging? Why would you be so friendly as to freely invite a stranger into your home for the night? I could be someone dangerous."

The smile on Ahri's face was sincere, azure orbs staring amiably. "I have a fair reason to believe that you're a very good person, even if you don't show it outright. Call it a hunch."

Riven found herself at a loss for words. Just what was it with this woman? They hadn't been talking for long and yet there was something about her that—

Ugh. She couldn't even put her finger on it.

It would be helpful to save what little gold she was earning, however, the fact remained that she was a stranger – a random woman who decided to be friendly. A bit _too _friendly.

And she was gorgeous- … had good looks.

The warrior asked, albeit with some hesitation, "Are you a courtesan?"

Ahri nearly spat out her drink, flabbergasted, and her eyes widened. "Pardon?"

"You've been unreserved with wanting to bring me home with you."

The Ionian just stared at her for a moment, taken aback, until she laughed airily. "You think that's what this is about? Riven, dear, it's simple: I think you and I will get along, _just fine_." Her voice was sultry and coquettish, and the Exile would be lying if she claimed that didn't affect her… just a little. "A stranger is a friend you've yet to meet. There's something about you, that much I know," she added, smiling.

That was… thoughtful. Odd, still, but thoughtful. And again, it would be helpful if she could save up a little… Besides it wasn't as though she felt any ill intent from the Ionian.

Quite the contrary.

Riven sighed. "Then… I accept your offer."

"Good!" Ahri's eyes lit up with joy and she smiled, flashing pearl-white teeth before grabbing the pale-haired woman by the arm. "Then let us hurry – if we're quick enough, we'll get the best view of the fireworks-show before it starts!"

The warrior barely had time to grab her greatsword before the raven-haired Ionian hurriedly dragged her out of the pub.

**X.x.X.x.X**

Ahri's home turned out to be just outside of the capital city: a lone traditional Ionian house – a hanok – nestled in a small meadow. While not nearly as beautiful on the outside as those in Placidium, it wasn't shabby.

And the interior proved to be a lot more humble: it was spacious, with mostly the bare necessities and few, limited "luxury items."

It beat Riven's room at the inn by miles.

"Make yourself at home," the Ionian purred with a wink. "But not too much! We need to head out soon – I just need to go fetch something."

"…Okay." The warrior crossed her arms and took a look around. It really was… nice, for the lack of a better word. Cozy, even. Neat and tidy to boot.

Still, she had to be on her toes. If she let her guard down—

The raven-haired woman came back in hurry, a bottle in one hand and a pair of small glass-cups in the other. "Quickly now, outside. It's about to start!"

Partly baffled, she followed her hostess out as the brunette put down the cups and opened up the bottle, pouring its liquid into the cups.

She handed one over to the Exile, grinning. "Here. Try some."

The former field-commander accepted the cup and stared: the liquor was amber in colour, and smelled… well, not too pleasantly.

Just then, the first firework shot up into the night sky, flashing a bright red before it was joined by orange, green, and more red, brightening up the open air with their colourful explosions.

"Oh, it's begun!" Ahri exclaimed. "Cheers, Riven."

Without thought, the warrior gently raised her glass to her hostess's, and took a swig. The smell really didn't do much for her, but the taste was… well…

"What is this?"

Mirth shone in almond-shaped eyes. "Snake-blood wine. My favourite beverage."

The taste lingered in her mouth, and a pink tongue flicked out to wipe her lips clean. "…It's good." It really was, though it had some sort of medicinal aftertaste.

She gulped down the rest, ignoring the scent. Riven wasn't a heavy drinker or one to drown her sorrows in alcohol – it was always in moderation – but this…

"May I ask for a refill?"

The sky shone bright with crimson and the warrior looked up as more fireworks shot up from the capital. This was… new. Refreshing. Back in Noxus, it had always been dark, the only thing to light up the nights being the roaring flames from workshops and smiths.

To see such vivid colours tear up the darkness was, in an odd way, soothing.

And for this one moment, Riven allowed herself to forget her troubles, her inner demons at ease as dark-brown orbs stared in awe at the clear, bright sky.

* * *

><p><em>Hope you all enjoyed it so far! :3<em>


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